


A Travel Mug Travels Home

by SCFrankles



Category: Sesame Street (US TV), Teeny Little Super Guy (Sesame Street) - Fandom
Genre: Gen, Humor, Mild Chicken Peril, Pigs in Space (The Muppet Show), Some innuendo
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-10
Updated: 2020-12-10
Packaged: 2021-03-09 20:27:07
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,948
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27992247
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SCFrankles/pseuds/SCFrankles
Summary: R. W. Shipshape is now grown up and has become a teacher. But when a student needs some help in dealing with bullying and feeling more at home, RW finds he needs some assistance from an old mentor...
Comments: 17
Kudos: 17
Collections: Yuletide 2020





	A Travel Mug Travels Home

**Author's Note:**

  * For [melannen](https://archiveofourown.org/users/melannen/gifts).



> Thank you so much to [hangingfire](https://archiveofourown.org/users/hangingfire) for the beta and American-pick! I was so grateful for their generous help.
> 
> * * *

Now, stop me if you’ve heard this one… but did I ever tell you about the time I assisted my little salt shaker friend R. W. Shipshape in helping one of his students feel more at home?

This was after RW had grown up of course. He studied hard, went to college, and got his teaching degree. And in fact ended up teaching at his old elementary school.

In the meantime, I’d retired. Even a Teeny Little Super Guy can’t go on forever. I had moved down into the basement of our neighborhood and was living at the Home for Retired Cups and Mugs, but with my new free time I was taking the opportunity to do plenty of traveling. I was having a great time. Though secretly, I must confess, I was always waiting for the call to help out.

But don’t let me get ahead of myself! Let me set the scene before I make my big entrance…

As I said, RW was now working as an elementary school teacher, and this day, after the school day had ended, he was having a meeting on the dining room buffet with one of his students and her guardian. This was a fairly new student—a travel mug by the name of Thora M. Troligtvis. She hailed originally from IKEA but had arrived with us via a thrift store. She and her foster mother Rosalita, a pottery vase, were attending a meeting with RW because sadly some of her fellow students were choosing to behave badly and were bullying her.

“They make fun of my Swedish accent, and laugh at me because I’ve been in a thrift store,” said Thora. “I’m fed up with it, Mr. Shipshape!”

“Something really has to be done,” agreed Rosalita. “At school Thora should be able to concentrate on her studies and have fun with her friends.”

All very good points of course. And luckily RW had many years of mentoring from me to draw on to solve this problem. He thought deeply.

“Have you tried,” suggested RW, “ignoring the students that laugh at you?”

“Yes,” said Thora. “And that doesn’t work.”

“Well, have you tried being friendly with them?” inquired RW.

“Yes,” said Thora. _“That_ doesn’t work.”

RW thought very hard indeed. “Well then, have you tried to be the bigger person and be understanding of their personal deficiencies?”

“I’ve tried,” said Thora. She shrugged. “But sometimes the constant punching in the back of my lid breaks my concentration.”

Young RW was at something of a loss. “You know, Thora. Sometimes part of a successful school career is just... learning how to fit in.”

Thora furrowed her brow. “You mean, I should make a greater effort not to have a different accent and not to have been in a thrift store?”

Rosalita smiled politely, if a little tensely. “Mr. Shipshape, I really don’t feel we’re making progress here. Could you perhaps consult with a superior for suggestions?”

RW looked awkward. “I’m afraid the principal is away at a conference at the moment.”

Rosalita sighed heavily. “And is there no one else you can ask for assistance? Nobody who can point you in the right direction?”

“No, I really don’t think there’s—”

But RW paused, and his eyes lit up.

“You know, there _might_ be someone. He used to help me when I was Thora’s age. He helped all of the local kids! He’s been retired for a long time, but I wonder…”

RW trundled off to the edge of the buffet and leaned over to haul a drawer open. “I think I can still remember his personal number.” He dropped down into the drawer. “I just need to find my tap shoes!”

“Tap shoes, Mr. Shipshape?” asked Thora, with the natural curiosity of the young.

“Yes!”

RW reappeared wearing the aforementioned shoes and clambered back up.

“Okay, here we go! And a one, a two, a one, two, three, four…”

RW began to dance and sing:

_“‘Teeny Little Super Guy…!’_ Um… Oh, yes! _‘Pops right up before your eye! He’s no bigger than your thumb…’”_

“No bigger than your t _humb?”_ interrupted Rosalita.

“He really must be teeny,” said Thora, staring down at her hands.

RW came to an awkward halt with his dance routine. “No, you see, he’s no bigger than a _human_ thumb.”

Rosalita looked bemused. “Why is he being measured against a human thumb? That’s a little out of left field, isn’t it?”

“So actually he’s not ‘teeny little’. He’s a perfectly normal height,” said Thora, pensively.

RW hesitated. “Yes, I… suppose so.”

He thought about that for a moment, and then resumed his routine.

_“‘Snap your fingers—here he comes! Don’t look in the sky, don’t look in the sea. He’s inside of you and me—’”_

Thora had raised her hand and was waving it insistently. RW halted once again and smiled cautiously. “Yes, Thora?”

Thora put her hand down. “‘Inside of you and me’—doesn’t that imply that we are supposed to look for wisdom inside of ourselves, instead of immediately always going to him for help?”

RW thought quickly. “Well, yes. But… sometimes the greatest wisdom is knowing when to ask for help?”

“Hmm.” Thora didn’t look convinced, but RW took advantage of the pause to finish the song.

_“You can’t tell a hero by his size—”_

And here comes my big entrance. Despite being away on my travels, I had heard the call and was now just in time to join in with the last line. I popped up through the buffet and sang:

“I’m just a Teeny Little Super Guy!”

I turned and beamed at R. W. Shipshape.

“RW!” I said. “How wonderful to see you! Look at you, all grown up.”

RW smiled back. “Mr. Super Guy, thank you so much for coming!” He gestured to Thora and Rosalita. “We all really need your help. Thora is being bullied and we need some advice on how to fix it.”

You know, I was thrilled to be asked to help. And I knew just what to do. I might have been a little out of practice about being a Super Guy, but I had a few zingers right off the bat.

I cleared my throat and got to work.

“Well now, young Thora,” I said. “Have you tried ignoring the students that bully you?”

Thora looked at me uncertainly. “Yes…?”

Clearly strike one. I tried again. “And have you tried being friendly with them?”

There was a complicated expression on the young drinking vessel’s face. “Yes.”

Strike two. I supplied my final piece of wisdom. “Well, have you tried to be the bigger person and—”

“Yes!” interjected Rosalita. She turned to Thora. “Come along, corazoncita. I don’t think we’re going to get any help here.”

“No, please! Wait a moment.”

I was determined to assist. And you know, sometimes you have to take a long way around to find an answer to a problem. I addressed Thora herself.

“Tell me, young Thora, if you had the choice, what would _you_ want to be done about this situation?”

“Well…” Thora looked down. “You know what? It looks like I’m not welcome here…” She looked up again. “So, I think… I think I’d like to go back home.”

“But this is your home!” protested RW.

I held up a hand to allow Thora to finish. “Where do you call home?” I inquired.

“IKEA,” she said. She gave a small smile. “That’s the only place I’ve really felt I belonged.”

“Okay,” I said. “Well, let’s try taking you back there then.”

Rosalita shook her head. “Mr. Shipshape is right. Thora has a home _here._ We can just find her another school, if the bullying won’t stop at this one.”

But Thora stood firm. “I want to go back to IKEA.”

I looked at the grown-ups. “Trust me on this one?” I said quietly.

Rosalita looked very unsure, but after a moment RW nodded confidently at me.

“Okay,” I said. I smiled round at everyone. “Here we go!”

Using my trademark, and highly secret, Teeny Little Super Guy powers—that is, snapping my fingers and hoping for the best—in no time at all I popped us all up in Thora’s branch of IKEA.

It was bustling with people and Thora beamed as she gazed around.

“It’s just how I remember it!”

She hurried down the route toward the kitchen section and we all followed on after her.

_“Hej alla! Hej!”_ she called.

The kitchenware as one all stared at her.

“There’s no need to make that awful attempt at Swedish,” said a pitcher, somewhat superciliously . “We can all speak English, you know.”

Thora looked a little floored. Well, of course she was on the floor at the time. “But Swedish is my native language.”

A plate laughed. “With that American accent? I don’t think so.”

Thora hesitated. “I suppose my accent is changing. I have been away quite a while. But Swedish is my language! I’m one of the Troligtvis travel mugs!”

“Troligtvis travel mugs…?” The pitcher looked at the plate.

“Must be before our time,” said the plate. He shrugged. “Sold out and discontinued apparently.”

Thora looked downcast.

“Well, what about the Tillfällig family? Are they still here?”

“Ah, I remember _them…”_ said the pitcher. She shrugged. “But they’re long gone.”

“And the Stödjande family?” asked Thora.

The pitcher looked inquiringly again at the plate, and the plate nodded. “They’re gone too.”

Thora looked utterly deflated. “So, it looks like I don’t know anybody here anymore. If I moved here, I would be starting all over again.”

“You’re thinking of moving in _here?”_ The pitcher looked her up and down. “I don’t see any packaging or a price tag. You’re surely not…” She raised an eyebrow. “...used?”

Young Thora hesitated. “Well, yes.”

The pitcher smiled and shook her head. “I really don’t think this the place for someone like you, dear. I’m sure some Goodwill place would be thrilled to have you.” She muttered the next bit under her breath. “As apparently no decent home wants to keep you.”

“But—” said Thora.

However, the pitcher and the plate turned away from her, and the rest of the kitchenware followed suit.

“Now hang on a minute—!” said RW.

Rosalita too looked like she was about to have a very strong word with everyone, but Thora gave a small sob and Rosalita hurried to comfort her instead.

“So I don’t even belong in my first home.” said Thora. Her lip trembled.

“Maybe not,” I said. I gave her an encouraging smile. “So perhaps we should find you a home with a friendlier Swede.”

A snap of my fingers and we arrived in a cozy kitchen, packed with cupboards and dressers full of dishes, silverware and other various cooking implements.

A ladle looked up at us with surprise, but quickly smiled. “Hello! Are you new here?”

“Glad to have you on board!” called a rolling pin.

A lettuce waved its leaves in greeting and a loaf called, “Hello!”

“Pawk!” added a chicken that was wandering around.

Thora was beaming again. “Everyone is so friendly here. I love it!”

“But where is here?” asked RW.

In front of us, a man in a chef’s hat, with bushy eyebrows and a bushy mustache, was standing at the counter waving a couple of carving knives happily about.

“This… is the Swedish Chef’s kitchen,” I said dramatically.

Thora’s eyes widened. “The Swedish Chef! We’re in the Swedish Chef’s kitchen? Oh, gosh! I’m such a fan.”

Rosalita looked more uncertain. “Are you sure his restaurant is a good place for a small child?”

However, our attention was distracted by the Chef beginning to sing:  
  
  
_“Jer, børk skeer_  
_Uh doo, på kish ker doo._  
_Jer børg foor sker ber pör um_  
_Børk, børk, børk!”  
  
  
_“Børk! Børk! Børk!” Young Thora happily joined in with the last line, then we all ducked together in impressive unison as the chef tossed his carving knives over his shoulders and away over our heads.

“So you understand what he’s singing?” asked Rosalita.

“Not a clue,” said Thora cheerfully. “I’ve never come across that dialect.” She sighed happily. “But I’m sure I could learn it.”

“If you like it here, you could get an apprenticeship here,” I said. “And then afterwards perhaps you could get a permanent job.”

“Oh, that would be a dream come true!” Thora sighed.

The Chef suddenly grabbed a piece of paper listing the next order, and Thora craned her head forward to read it.

“Coffee… and a chicken salad. “ She grinned. “Looks like we’re going to see the great man in action.”

The Chef pulled a handful of coffee beans out of a jar and considered them for a moment.

“He’s going to make the coffee from scratch!” said Thora, excitedly. “Maybe I can hold the fresh coffee for him after he’s finished!”

RW was looking about. “I wonder where the grinder is though?”

There didn't seem to be one anywhere. However, the Chef appeared undaunted.

He abruptly threw the beans up into the air, and then quickly pulled something out from under the counter. A something with a short, large caliber barrel.

“Is that… a blunderbuss?” said Rosalita, faintly.

The Swedish Chef pointed the gun upwards and pulled the trigger. And immediately a shower of fine powder rained down on us. Instant coffee, you could say… Anyway, after a little coughing and spluttering, we managed to clear the coffee from our faces.

“Well,” said RW. “That’s unconventional, but I guess it does the job?”

There was some uncertain agreement from the rest of us. The Swedish Chef was apparently satisfied with the results though and was already rummaging underneath for another tool.

He reappeared holding a cleaver. “Cheekee-a seled,” he intoned.

As one, RW, Thora, Rosalita and myself turned to look at the chicken peacefully puttering about the kitchen.

The chicken froze, and stared at the Chef.

“Cheekee-a seled,” repeated the Chef, and with a determined look on his face, he headed slowly toward the chicken.

The chicken quivered and shrank back. “Paw-aw-k?”

For a long, long moment we all watched as the Chef advanced, and the distance between chopper and choppee got smaller and smaller. But then—

“Oh, heck no!”

Thora broke free of our collective inertia, dashed forward and scooped up the chicken on top of her lid, and then made a run for it. And after a moment’s surprise, RW, Rosalita and I were right behind her, grabbing other innocent foodstuffs as we went.

“Stoppe, diefas!” yelled the Chef.

I glanced behind me. The Chef wasn’t giving chase, but was once more rummaging beneath his kitchen counter. Naturally, I didn’t stop to see what other weapons he had under there, but with renewed efforts I turned my attention back to our escape...

We all came to a halt far down the road, panting hard.

Thora set down the chicken, and Rosalita put down the loaf and pulled out the knife that the Chef had thrown into it with unsettling accuracy. The loaf had lost a slice of two, but would probably pull through. RW pulled an arrow out of his hat—the missile having luckily missed both himself and the lettuce he had rescued. For my part, I found that the cabbage I thought I had liberated was somehow instead a bomb with a rapidly burning fuse, and I tossed it away just as it exploded.

My companions stared at me.

I attempted to look casual. “So what do you think?” I asked Thora. “Maybe pencil it in as a possibility?”

Everybody continued to stare at me.

“Well, maybe not,” I said.

Thora sighed. “It’s just hopeless. There’s nowhere in the world where I belong.”

Well, I wouldn’t be living up to my calling of Teeny Little Super Guy if I didn’t take that as a challenge. “So let’s try somewhere outside the world,” I said.

I snapped my fingers once again, and suddenly the four of us were in a compact little galley full of futuristic appliances, and a pig with long blonde hair and a glittery, purple uniform was muttering angrily to herself as she threw scraps into a mixing bowl.

“All my years of training and experience, and go make the swill, they say! You do it best, they say! Because you’re a woman, they say!”

“Ahem,” I said, attempting to politely announce our presence.

“Well, maybe if they just applied themselves instead of messing about on the bridge doing nothing—”

“Ahem!” I said, a little louder.

The pig paused, and turned slowly to stare at us.

Thora smiled and waved, and the rest of us cautiously joined in.

The pig shook her head. “And now teleporting kitchenware. That’s all I need!”

I stepped forward to begin an explanation, but it was at this point that a siren went off.

The pig sighed. “What are those knuckleheads up to?”

She narrowed her eyes at us.

“Well, I’m not leaving you all here on your own, getting up to who knows what.”

And she grabbed us all, stuck us on a tray, and hurried away with us.

Thora’s eyes were wide as we went down a corridor and passed a portal showing only stars and infinite darkness. “Is this a _spaceship?”_

“Yep,” I said proudly. “This is the Swinetrek. And I think we’re being taken by First Mate Piggy to see Captain Link Hogthrob and Dr. Julius Strangepork on the bridge.”

I was indeed correct in this surmise. A set of automatic doors opened for us and we all entered onto the bridge.

“Okay, what’s the problem?” demanded First Mate Piggy.

Dr. Strangepork was urgently giving all his attention to some apparently unresponsive controls, but Captain Hogthrob was standing looking at the viewing screen. He pointed a trembling finger toward it.

Out in the expanses of space, an avant-garde and sophisticated framework of rods and tubes scuttled smoothly to and fro on uncountable feet, a solitary dorsal plastic wing flapping in a simulacrum of life or perhaps even a new version of existence.

As we watched, the space winds pushed through the tubes and the creature _howled._

First Mate Piggy rolled her eyes. “Oh, great,” she said. “The recycling’s gained sentience again.”

She slammed the tray down perhaps unnecessarily harshly, jostling us all and causing us to topple over.

_“Ik ben het Strandbeest!”_ cried the creature. _“Ik heb het zand en de wind nodig. Ik moet terug naar de zee!”_

First Mate Piggy stared. “What strange, unholy language is that?” She looked toward her colleague Dr. Strangepork. “Have you got that universal translator working again yet?”

“Not yet,” said Dr. Strangepork, looking up briefly. “In de meantime, I thought dat you could try a few words in udder languages, und see how it goes.”

During this exchange, my companions and I were all in the process of picking ourselves up again. Thora was the first to get herself upright.

“Perhaps the creature speaks Swedish,” she whispered. She spoke up loudly. _“Hej, pratar du svenska?”_

First Mate Piggy twirled around to look at her in surprise.

_“Hallo, meisje!”_ called the creature in reply. _“Nee, ik praat alleen maar Strandbeests, maar ik kan je een beetje begrijpen.”_ They stared at RW. _“Wat is er met zijn hoed? Het ziet eruit als een echt goede hoed, maar waarom het grote gat?”_

_“Lång historia!”_ said Thora.

Dr. Strangepork gave up fiddling with the translator. “Hey, maybe de creature vill understand ein little German as well.”

He rose and turned toward the screen.

_“Sprechen Sie vielleicht Deutsch?”_

The creature bustled closer. _“Oh! U spreekt Strandbeests! Dat is een raar accent, maar het maakt niet uit.”_

And the creature, Strangepork and Thora all began to speak excitedly together.

First Mate Piggy sighed in frustration. “Alien-flotsam language! Alien-kitchenware language! Doesn’t anyone here speak any English?”

I stepped forward. “Madam,” I said politely. “I believe I can attest with certitude that all and sundry here can converse in that specified tongue.”

“Okay,” said Piggy, looking around. “Does anyone here speak a little less English?”

Rosalita came forward too. “Look, we don’t want to cause any trouble,” she said. “We’re just trying to help young Thora there.”

“She’s being bullied,” said RW. “And we’re trying to find a better place for her.”

Piggy stared at him. “So you thought it would be a good idea to send the kid out into the deepest recesses of space?”

“Well, no…” RW hesitated. “You see it all started when I called up my old childhood mentor the Teeny Little Super Guy…” He gestured toward me.

“Teeny Little… Super Guy?” Piggy looked doubtfully at me. “Isn’t he just a plastic cup?”

I stepped forward. “Let me introduce myself properly.” I cleared my throat and began to sing. _“Teeny Little Super Guy, I pop right up before your eye!”_

Piggy looked at me a little suspiciously I thought, but I continued on.

_“I’m no bigger than your thumb. Snap your trotter, here I come!”_

Despite the personalisation, I felt her suspicion was only growing. I attempted to dial up the charm.

_“Don’t look in the soup, don’t look in the stew...”_

I smiled and winked winsomely.

_“You know that I’m_ inside _of you!”_

Piggy’s eyes widened. “Now, look here, buster—!”

Looking around for some moral support, I saw that Rosalita was smiling awkwardly at RW. “I don’t remember there being this many double entendres when you sang it,” she whispered to him.

Double entendres? I felt the situation was getting away from me, but I didn’t see any alternative to finishing the song.

_“You can’t tell a hero by his size—”_

Link Hogthrob nodded sagely. For some reason, First Mate Piggy glanced automatically down below her captain’s waist, caught herself, and looked away in embarrassment.

_“I’m just a Teeny Little Super Guy!”_ I declared.

However, First Mate Piggy did not seem impressed. “You certainly don’t seem that super to me.” She addressed Hogthrob. “Let’s get this creep off the ship!”

“Now, wait a minute,” said Hogthrob, a little pompously perhaps. “I’m the captain. I’m the one in charge.”

“Well, act like a captain and make a decision then!” said Piggy.

“Alright,” said Hogthrob. He raised a hand. “I want them all to stay.”

“You have got to be kidding—!” declared Piggy.

And the two of them began to argue. This caught Strangepork’s attention and he left the conversation with the creature to enter into the fray with his crewmates. Thora and the creature also ceased their exchange to look on with some bemusement.

However, among all this, I saw a fresh opening for offering my help and making a better impression. “Now hold on!” I called. “I might be able to help here.”

“Ja?” said Strangepork, turning to look at me.

“Yes,” I said. “I know a lot about cooperation and making sure everyone is enjoying themselves.” I thought for a moment. “For example…” I smiled modestly. “I once taught a couple of young friends how to swing.”

Piggy’s jaw dropped, Strangepork’s eyes widened, and Captain Hogthrob leaned forward in interest.

Yes, fine. Even I heard that one.

There was just something about the ambiance on the Swinetrek… I attempted to move swiftly off onto another example.

“And there’s my retirement home. When I first arrived, there was only one space left on the shelf, so for our sleeping arrangements I suggested to my roommate that he get on top of me.”

Piggy looked at RW. “Are you sure this guy should be a role model for children?”

I waved my hands. “No, no! I’m just talking about one cup stacking inside another.” I racked my brain for a clear explanation. “You know, object insertion!”

First Mate Piggy stared at me for a long moment. Then she abruptly swung her left arm back.

_“Haaai-ya!!”_

She karate-chopped me into the air. I sailed toward the viewing screen, bounced off of it, ricocheted off the opposite wall, and was then caught one-handed by a surprised Strangepork, who replaced me on the tray.

“First Mate Piggy, I really didn’t—” I began.

But with a moue of disapproval, she turned away in a dignified fashion to address Thora instead. “I think we need to leave the ‘grown-ups’ to talk things over. Would you like a tour of the ship, dear?”

Thora nodded in excitement, and she made her way into Piggy’s arms. Rosalita followed on, giving me a concerned look, but I gave her a reassuring smile. Luckily, all that was hurt was my dignity.

Looking over her shoulder, Piggy addressed Hogthrob and Strangepork. “I’ll leave you two to sort all this out.” She glanced toward me, eyes narrowed. Then she raised her head high, and took Thora and Rosalita through the far set of automatic doors and further into the ship.

By the time Piggy, Thora and Rosalita returned, we had managed a conversation with the creature using Strangepork as interpreter. As a gesture of good will RW and I agreed that we would take the creature back with us and, since they apparently wished to live by the sea, we would transport them to a beach of their choice.

“But do _you_ want to stay here?” I asked Thora.

Piggy looked aghast. “I told you, buster, this is no place for a child. Thora needs parenting! And to go to school!”

But Thora was already shaking her head. “No, I don’t think this is the place for me. Well, not yet anyway.”

Piggy smiled affectionately at her. “I think you might have a future in space technology, dear, if you want. You’ve got a real aptitude for it.”

“Well, you’re a very good teacher.”

Thora returned Piggy’s smile, and then she looked at me.

“First Mate Piggy taught me _such_ a useful way to look after myself.”

I hesitated. “It wasn’t the karate chop… was it?”

Thora shook her head. “Oh, no. Violence wouldn’t solve anything.”

I looked at First Mate Piggy, who once again narrowed her eyes at me. I felt that she didn’t _entirely_ agree with young Thora.

We finished saying our goodbyes, and with some relief, I snapped my fingers.

We found a quiet beach in Western Europe for the creature. Quiet… but not deserted. Other creatures made of tubes and plastic roamed there, similar to but none quite the same as our creature.

“Will you be happy here?” asked Rosalita.

_“Kommer du att vara lycklig här?”_ asked Thora.

There was a pause and then the creature answered at length. Thora listened hard.

“I think…” she said. “I think they said that they can only try. Nobody here is exactly like them and it isn’t home yet… But it’s home enough for the moment. Better than being stuck out in space on their own.”

The creature waved a tube at us and then they turned and trundled toward the sea and their companions.

Thora looked thoughtful as she watched the creature go.

“I think I want to go home now.” She looked at Rosalita. _“Home_ home. Maybe I should have another try.”

Rosalita smiled at her. “I’m so glad you want to.”

Thora looked at me. “Can you take us home, Mr. Super Guy?”

I nodded, and snapped my fingers.

The next day, after we had all had some rest, RW and I went to visit Thora and Rosalita at their home.

“Did our adventure help at all, Thora?” I asked.

Thora smiled. “It did, Mr. Super Guy. Showing me those different places taught me so much. Going back to IKEA taught me that home isn’t a physical place—it’s where you have people who care about you.”

She smiled at Rosalita and RW, and then returned her attention to me.

“And going to the Swedish Chef’s kitchen taught me that I can be brave and stick up for myself and for others.”

“You did excellently,” I agreed.

Thora beamed. “And going to the Swinetrek taught me the most important lesson of all. Well, the two most important lessons.”

“What are those?” asked Rosalita, affectionately.

Thora smiled at her. “The first lesson was from the creature. That it takes time to feel at home. You have to make some adjustments.”

“And the second?” I asked.

“That it’s possible to hack into any computer you like!” Thora grinned. “No, honestly! First Mate Piggy gave me so many tips.”

She looked at RW.

“So, I’ve solved my problem, Mr. Shipshape! I’ve hacked into the school computer system and reassigned all my bullies to a new school—the dusty cardboard box in the attic.”

“Um,” said RW, somewhat taken aback. “I’m not sure—”

Thora shook her head cheerfully. “No, you needn’t worry. They had plenty of room for them and I’ve sorted it all out. I think they may be happier there. There’s dirt and huge spiders and, oh, lots of other frightening things! As you said, it’s important to fit in.”

“Yes…” said RW. “I _did_ say that but—”

Thora looked around at us all and beamed. “So there you are. A happy ending after all.”

Yes, indeed. It wasn’t the ending I had been altogether anticipating but it was certainly a positive one.

Thora got to be happy at school, and Rosalita was happy because Thora was happy. The creature from space got a new home. And RW learned that in future he should deal with bullying before the offenders were mysteriously sent away to a boarding school—er, a _card_ boarding school—and he had to explain things to their annoyed parents.

And as for me, well, I learned that I still had it. Yes, you know, despite my retirement, it seems I’ll always be... “just a Teeny Little Super Guy.” Oh, _yeah!_


End file.
